Big thank you to Homuraak3mi for helping me with the correct way to say things in German! In case you can't tell, I'm agonizingly American, and the only German I really know comes from movies, so big thank you!
The ride from Daughtry, Texas to Gatlinburg, Tennessee was going to take ten days, eleven if they continuously stopped for breaks, but the Schultz couple seemed accustomed to traveling without breaks Django realized halfway through the first day when he realized that Sara seemed perfectly happy to sit next to her husband on the cart, reading a book as King drove the cart. He walked alongside them for some time, the quiet that was broken only by the horses hooves and the spring on top of the cart becoming little more than background noise to him as they moved along a lonely road. "What you reading?" he asked finally as he steered Tony next to Sara who looked up and then at the book.
"Hm?" she asked and then looked back at him. "Oh, its title is Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus," she said as she closed the book to show him the cover. He nodded and she flipped the book open again, to the page she had been reading when he asked.
"What it's about?" he asked and she looked up at him again.
"It's about a man named Victor Frankenstein," she told him. "He was a scientist who created life through the use of unorthodox measures," she summarized as she glanced at the book in her hands. "But the life isn't the perfect being he expected it to be, he rejects the creature and the creature begins to seek revenge on his father and all of society who has rejected him through murder and mayhem,"
"Why?" he asked and she smiled softly.
"Why indeed?" she asked as she looked back at him. "Has not man rejected our own creator by means of murder and mayhem for turning his back on us? Have we not been rejected by the same being who saw it fit to create life in his own image?" she asked and Django seemed to think about that for a moment or two before he nodded.
"Tell it to me," he said simply and she smiled as she looked at him and then flipped back to the first page.
"It starts out with a few letters," she explained as she turned the pages to the first written letter. "To Mrs. Saville, England. St. Petersburgh, Dec. 11th, 17—. You will rejoice to hear that no disaster has accompanied the commencement of an enterprise which you have regarded with such evil forebodings. I arrived here yesterday, and my first task is to assure my dear sister of my welfare and increasing confidence in the success of my undertaking."
By the time they stopped to camp for the night Sara had gotten through three of the letters, having stopped to explain whatever questions Django had, and to explain the definition of words frequently, but he seemed content with her reading and her answers.
As they stopped to camp, King built them a fire, Sara set about making a dinner for the three and Django helped King unhitch Fritz from the cart and build a small corral with rope, the cart, and a tree to make sure the horses didn't run off. Before putting them into the makeshift corral the two men walked the horses to a nearby river where they were allowed to drink and splash for a time while King knelt by the water and washed the dirt and sweat from his face. Django, seeing an opportunity to do the same knelt next to the man and splashed the cool water from the creek onto his face, it surprised him how good it felt to feel the freshwater on his warm and tired skin and after splashing himself once, he did it again, rubbing his hands over his face, and then looked over as King smiled at him, water dripping from his whiskers.
"You seemed to be enjoying the book this afternoon," he commented as he stood up, leaning against a rock to watch the horses nosing and splashing water at each other.
"Sara a good reader," Django replied.
"Tell me Django," King said as he drew his pipe from the pocket within his coat. "Do you know how to read?" there was no judgement in his voice, nothing but curiosity as he packed his pipe and put the end into his mouth. He felt around his pockets for a moment before letting out an "Ah-" and drew a box of matches from his pocket, striking one and then lighting his pipe. When it was sufficiently lit and he was able to draw smoke from it he tossed the extinguished match into the river and then looked at Django expectantly.
"No," he admitted. "Ol man Carrucan- he don't believe in slaves learnin nothin but what they need ta know to do their jobs."
"Of course," King sighed. "Well, luckily for you, my wife was in her previous life, a very skilled teacher who would no doubt teach you whatever it is you'd like to learn," he offered. "If you'd like to learn to read, that is."
Django thought about the offer before looking back at his new companion. "You think she could teach me to read?" he asked and King smiled at him.
"I'm sure she could," King said.
When the two got back to the camp Django was leading the horses while King carried two buckets of water, and he had only managed to splash a little bit on his pants Django noticed. He wouldn't exactly be cut out for too much hard work, but he seemed perfectly content to live the life they were leading now.
"Welcome back," Sara said to them as she stirred whatever she was cooking in a pot.
"You need help?" Django asked as he turned the horses loose into the corral and then tied up the rope the way King had shown him.
"Nope," she replied cheerfully. "In about an hour dinner will be ready," she told them both as she laid the ladle down and then set about setting up a place for them all to sleep.
Django watched as she pulled the thick buffalo hide from the wagon and laid it out on the ground near the wagon, then took out a blanket and laid it down on top of the hide. After doing that she got one of the packages from the general store in Daughtrey and ripped it open, a new fresh blanket was inside and she laid that out on the ground about fifteen feet from where she had laid out the hide. As she was doing that, King was pouring some water into a tea kettle and set the kettle near the fire to heat up.
When she finished what she was doing setting up the beds Django watched her bring a bowl and a small satchel over to the fire and sat down on the ground. When the water in the kettle was warm she poured some of it into her bowl and began to mix powders and herbs from jars and packages in her satchel before she looked over at Django.
"Come here," she waved him over and he walked over to see what she wanted. "Take your shoes off, I want you to soak your ankles in this," she said as she gestured to the bowl.
"I had worse," he assured her and she smiled.
"I have too," she told him. "But please," He seemed to relent and sat down, pulling off the boots and exposing the horrific cuts around his ankles. He looked at her and took notice of the look of distaste on her face but she took up a cloth she had and dipped it into the water and then rubbed it against the bar of unscented soap.
As Django watched she began to clean his wounds with a determination that he hardly expected from her, but he didn't say a word, he just let her work at what she was doing, and after cleaning one ankle she gently moved his foot to submerge it in the bowl. "What all that is?" he asked as she started to clean his other ankle.
"It's a mixture of different herbs and powders," she told him. "Some things to promote healing. After you soak your ankles we'll let them dry for the night, then tomorrow I'll make a poultice you can wear for a few hours. We'll keep doing that until they heal," she explained and he nodded before looking over at King who was refilling the kettle next to the fire.
"How you got hurt?" he asked.
"It's a long story," she said as she kept her eyes on what she was doing.
"Tell me," he requested and she looked up at him before sighing.
"You and I have had some similar wounds," she said and he looked down at his ankles and she shook her head. "Not quite," she replied. "I almost married a man a long time ago, he was a slave trader, I didn't know the extent which his cruelty ran," she shook her head as she looked down. "Like I said, it's a long story."
"Does King know?" he asked and she smiled softly.
"Yes he does," she replied. "King saved me from making the biggest mistake of my life- I owe him quite a bit," she said as she finished washing the broken, bloody and scabbed over skin. "Soak your ankle Django," she told him and he dipped his foot into the warm water with the other one.
By the time they got to Tennessee Django had become a visibly better rider. On their way there they had stopped for lunch, while the horses grazed and the men ate Sara sat to the side stirring up the last of the poultice in a bowl, before spreading the thick paste on a long strip of bandage. "Django," she called over to him and he walked over to her, used to this process by now. He took off his boots and socks and sat down so she could apply the poultice to his ankles, which he had to admit were looking much much better.
"Today's the last day of doing this," she told him.
"They look a lot better," he agreed and she smiled.
"I've learned a thing or two about first aid over the years," she replied as she looked up at him and then back at what she was doing. "As always, if it gets any worse, if it hurts or swells up or anything, you tell me right away." She instructed and he nodded, used to the speech she had been giving him for the past ten days.
"Yes ma'am." He replied dryly, making her smile.
"Go finish your lunch Django." She grinned before she stood up and took the bowl, dumping it out in the field of mustard flowers they were sitting in.
Making their way across the state, the three travelers had found they could converse quite easily, especially when Django realized they weren't the types to get offended listening to a black man speak his mind, he did just that. After they got close to the first town on their list, Gatlinburg, they decided to stop and camp outside of Chattanooga, and camp rather than go into the large town and deal with all the racists.
"Why she so good at making camp outside?" Django was asking King as they made camp while Sara led the horses to a spring close by so they could get a drink.
"Sara is quite accustomed to the lifestyle she's chosen." King assured Django. "In fact, she once lived with a tribe of Indians for close to a year." King added with a small chuckle while Django looked off in the direction that Sara had gone off in.
"What she do that for?" he asked and King thought for a moment before shaking his head.
"That is Sara's story to tell." He told Django who looked off in the direction that Sara had gone off in again.
The next morning Sara rose before the two men and dressed behind a rock. She went to the fire that she had covered in ashes the night before and removed them before taking a handful of dried grass and putting it over the embers. She blew on the embers, and after a moment she was rewarded with the embers becoming hot enough to catch on the dried grass and light. She put some dried bark and sticks Django had gathered the night before on the fire and then started to cook.
By the time Django got up, she was almost finished cooking breakfast. Beans and a warmed up biscuit with a cup of hot coffee, Django walked over to her as she held out a plate for him and he sat down near her, accepting the plate. Some time later King woke up and looked over at Sara and Django as the two talked to each other softly.
"It seems I'm the late riser this morning." King chuckled as he got up, practically blinding Django and Sara with his scarlet red long johns. She smirked lightly at the sight of them but chose not to say anything as he got dressed.
"What's the plan?" she asked and he sighed.
"Well, I'm still working on it." He admitted.
"What we need a plan for?" Django asked. "We go in, look an' see if the Brittle Brothers is there, an' we shoot 'em." He looked at Sara and King who simultaneously shook their heads.
"And what happens when the Brittle Brothers see us first and decide to shoot not only you and myself, but my wife and child as well?" King asked. "No, one needs a plan son. These are brutal times. A man who survives, is a man with a plan. A man who thrives, is a man with a good plan." King explained, before thinking. "So having said that, what is your plan young Django?"
"What you mean?" Django asked.
"Well after this Brittle business is behind us, you'll be a free man with a horse, and seventy five dollars in your back pocket. What's your plan after that?" King pushed as he watched the two of them, Sara making a plate for King and holding it out for him as Django seemed to think.
"Find my wife," Django took a bite of his food. "Buy her freedom."
"Django," King looked at their new friend in surprise. "I had no idea you were a married man." He slipped his suspenders over his shoulders. "Do most slaves believe in marriage?" he questioned as he walked over and accepted the plate from Sara and smiled at her as he did.
"Oh- me an' my wife do." He continued to eat as Sara loaded another scoop of food onto his plate. "Old man Carruccan didn't, that's why we uh…" he shifted slightly. "We run off." Sara looked at him curiously before gestured to the spot on her cheek mirroring the r on his cheek. He nodded and she looked away before fixing up a plate for her late sleeper husband. "After that, we was brought to Greenville an' sold. She got sold two days b'fore me- I dunno who bought her." He explained.
"How long ago did that happen?" Sara asked and he sighed as the thought about it.
"Few months ago" he said after a moment.
"Three or four?" King asked and Django thought.
"Three, definitely ain't been four months." he nodded.
"So she came from the Carrucan Plantation, and she was sold at The Greenville Slave Auction to some unknown customer three months ago?" Sara asked and Django nodded again as she seemed to think about that. "That's good," she said and he raised his eyebrows at her in confusion before looking at King who nodded.
"Sara's insight to her former lover's profession does provide us with a good understanding of the slave trade," he explained, earning a small thump to the knee which made him laugh. "What did I say?"
"He was never my lover," she told him darkly before looking back at Django. "The bad part about slavery being a business, is it's immoral and disgusting, however; the good part about it being a business is, they keep records. At the Greenville records house, there's a book with your wife's name in it, and the name of the customer who bought her, and more than likely their address."
"As usual, Sara is correct, in Greenville," King thought aloud as he walked to the fire and picked up the coffee tin, he poured himself a cup and then walked over to Django. "There is the records office, you know when she was sold," he poured another cup of coffee for Sara and then one for Django. "You know where she came from, and you know her name." King sat down next to Sara again and patted her knee as he spoke.
"What is her name Django?" she asked.
"Broomhilda." He replied as he sipped his coffee.
"What?" King asked in surprise.
"Broom-Hilda." He replied.
"Brunhilda?" King asked and Django nodded. "Were her owners German?" he asked though he already seemed to know the answer.
"Yeah, how you know?" Django asked. "She weren't born on the Caruccan plantation, she was raised by a German mistress, the Von Shaft's. She speak a little German too." Django added.
"Your wife?" King leaned forward in awe and Django nodded.
"Mm-hmm." He replied. "When she was little her mistress taught her so she'd have somebody to speak German with." He explained.
"My god," Sara looked at King who had taken her hand.
"Wait wait wait, your slave wife speaks German and her name is Brunhilda Von Shaft?" he asked.
"Yup." Django confirmed. "Most people's too hard to say Broomhilda. Always used to say to people ta call her Hildi." He smiled gently.
"She sounds lovely Django." Sara smiled at him and he nodded.
"Ain't nothin' lovelier." He agreed, before looking at Sara. "I don't mean you ain't-"
"Django, nothing can compare to the love a man has for his wife." She told him easily. "If you say there is no one lovelier than Broomhilda, then there is no one lovelier than Broomhilda, do not change your statement on my behalf." She assured him. "I just hope I get to meet her one day." She told him before taking the empty plates to the basin of water she had prepared to do the washing up. King jumped up instantly when he realized what she was doing and removed his coat, and rolled his shirt sleeves to his elbows. He knelt next to his wife, helping her do their dishes while Django watched a white man do the dishes he had eaten off of. He stared at the two for a long moment, before deciding he hoped Hildi met them too.
I'm glad you're still enjoying the story! Also, I have a discord server! If you're interested in joining, shoot me a message and I'll send you the link!